ISSN 1751-8229 Volume Eight, Number Two THE ANALOGICAL PARALLAX Christine Evans, University of British Columbia THE SCENT OF A WOMAN Slavoj Žižek’s stylistic reliance on analogy, tautology, and examples - and particularly on crude, humourous, or popular ones - is a frequently discussed and persistently controversial feature of his work. Although these tendences have certainly helped to establish Žižek’s ‘character’ as a philosopher, we can also identify a kind of structural, methodological line of reasoning in this authorial predilection: the attempt to create what I argue is a parallax effect that self-consciously interrogates the process of interpretation. Can the specificity of Žižek’s approach to Lacanian psychoanalysis be applied to the way in which meaning is constructed/understood across Žižek’s body of work? Concurrently, can this approach further illuminate the process by which we acquire knowledge of not only subjects and psychic processes, but also of the originary concepts and vocabularies which generate and organize a uniquely ‘Žižekian’ methodology? Through an examination of the strategic stylistic place of analogy in Žižek’s work, this paper seeks to subject such methods to analysis in the context of broader philosophical concerns which appear across Žižek’s oeuvre - namely universality, parallax, minimal difference, and the ‘location’ of the object cause of desire in this comprehension of difference. In one sequence from the Marx Brothers film, A Night at the Opera (1935), opportunist Otis B. Driftwood (Groucho Marx) attempts to woo the hapless dowager Mrs. Claypool (Margaret Dumont) after she discovers that he has neglected their dinner engagement to dine with another woman - naturally, in the very restaurant where he was scheduled to meet Mrs. Claypool. Groucho attempts to 1 comfort the disheartened Mrs. Claypool, claiming that he was only attracted to the other woman because she reminded him of Mrs. Claypool herself. Mrs. Claypool finds this delightful, and Groucho continues: “In fact, Mrs. Claypool, you remind me of you! Your eyes, your throat, your lips - everything about you reminds me of you! Well, except for you.” Two Lacanian interpretations of this comment are immediately apparent: firstly, Groucho’s ‘excuse’ for avoiding Mrs. Claypool is here nothing less than a transparent declaration of genuine devotion. Despite appearances to the contrary, Mrs. Claypool is indeed the object of Groucho’s affections, expressed perfectly by his admission that ‘the other woman’ was merely the necessary conduit for Mrs. Claypool’s occupation of a place in his desire. As such, when Groucho embraces Mrs. Claypool and exclaims, “I love you! I was only dining with that other woman because she reminds me of you!”, he has effectively understood that a woman only ‘acquires’ her value in his desire when she acts as a substitute for another woman; Margaret Dumont, ever the astute - albeit oblivious - Lacanian in the Marx Brothers’ films, is therefore ‘correct’ to be flattered by Groucho’s admission. Of course, such flattery does not excuse the fact that phantasmatic monogamy is an alien concept to the genuine Lacanian (in reality, claiming, ‘I only slept with him/her so that you - my true love - would gain value as a desirous object!’ is rarely a wise pretext for seduction), but we can also identify another possible reading of Groucho’s affirmation of affection. It seems certain that Mrs. Claypool’s features - especially when witnessed ‘assembled’ on her person - would serve to ‘remind’ the onlooker of her qualities, given that they belong exclusively to her and are visibly present. Indeed, Groucho’s ‘compliment’ would fail as a joke if he informed Mrs. Claypool of the bodily transcendence of her qualities, alleging that a certain beautiful peculiarity of her features (graceful neck, luscious lips, etc) heralded their appearance to him in metaphorically-loaded objects (swan’s neck, rose petals) or even in other attractive women. Suffice it to say that, ‘Your eyes are like starlight’ is a higher-order compliment than one which compares the ‘beautiful’ object to nothing beyond its singular - that is, its adjectivally or metaphorically unqualified - character (‘Your eyes are like your eyes’). And do we not see a similar logic at work in The Magnetic Fields’ song “A Pretty Girl is Like…”, where the singer/narrator’s frustration over constructing an effective simile for a girl’s beauty (“a pretty girl is like… a minstrel show… a violent crime… a melody”) ends in his ‘return’ to the simultaneously insufficient/concrete and eloquent/elusive signifier: “A pretty girl is like a pretty girl.” However, from the Lacanian perspective of the objet petit a, the crucial difference between the amorous musings of The Magnetic Fields and Groucho’s admiration of Mrs. Claypool is the exception Groucho makes of ‘her.’ While all of her various features serve as reminders of her desirous/desiring value in fantasy, the whole or sum-total of Mrs. Claypool has no place in this fantasy. “Everything about you reminds me of you,” Groucho states. “Well, except for you.” How are we to interpret this exception? Recalling that the objet a in Lacanian terminology simultaneously denotes the cause of desire (Lacan refers to it as “the object-cause of desire”) (1981 179), as well as a “semblance of being” (1975 2 95), it becomes clear that the objet a is not a positive entity or accessible property of the subject. Rather, it is the object of desire which we seek in the Other (1991 177), that which is “in him more than him” (1981 268) and - given its status as the object-cause of desire - is therefore the evanescent, traumatic semblance of the Other which we are forever barred from attaining/experiencing. When Groucho exempts Mrs. Claypool from her own likeness, he is essentially directing his ‘love’ towards a semblance of her being, or at something which she, as a complete being, can never properly evoke or suggest. This love finds expression through various disjointed qualities which anticipate an essence, but which - when concentrated on the subject Mrs. Claypool - are somehow disappointing, incomplete, and fail to satisfy Groucho’s request for the objet a. That essential element (a) which is ‘in Mrs. Claypool more than her’ is certainly not (and can never be) Mrs. Claypool herself; as such, we are here in a position to recast Groucho’s expression of conditional love as, ‘Nothing conjures up your (lovable) essence less effectively than you yourself.’ Lacan paraphrases this necessary realization as the statement, “I ask you to refuse what I offer you because that’s not it” (1975 111), where ‘it’ is the objet a, something which has “no being… [but is rather] the void presupposed by a demand” (Ibid 126). Contrary to the idealized romantic scenario which celebrates the ‘total subject’s’ unknowable exception as alluring and remarkable (the attitude of ‘I don’t know what it is, but there’s something so wonderful/different/special about you’ which ends in a surrender to the signifier in The Magnetic Fields’ “A Pretty Girl is Like…”), Groucho’s admission to Mrs. Claypool reveals that the exception is not beautiful or reminiscent of beauty, but is rather the opposite - that is, perplexingly insufficient just where we expect its ‘essential character’ to shine through and justify our love. One could here say: ‘I love in you something more than you… that’s it, but it is not you.’ The incommensurable divide between what we perceive as indispensable to the Other’s being and our continued reiteration of ‘that’s not it’, is precisely the space of the objet a. Žižek describes the objet a as “a certain curvature of the space [of desire] which causes us to make a bend… when we want to get directly at the object.” In itself, the objet a is “nothing at all, a pure semblance which just materializes the curvature of the space of desire” (1992 48, 49). Simply stated, we are confident of objet a’s positive attributes in the Other and its appearance as an accessible or even tangible partial object (eyes, lips, throat), but the ultimate assemblage of these requisite ‘qualities of being’ never fails to disappoint. For although we may be convinced that objet a is ‘something’ in contingent reality, this object-cause “only dissolves (se résout), in the final analysis, owning to its failure, unable, as it is, to sustain itself in approaching the real” (Lacan 1975 95). The popular jazz standard “These Foolish Things” is also exemplary in this respect, given its poignant address to an absent lover through a series of personally-portentous signifiers (“a cigarette that bears lipstick traces… gardenia perfume lingering on a pillow… the smile of Garbo and the scent of roses” and so on) which nonetheless serve to ensure the lover’s absence, to keep him at a distance. It is significant that the lover is only addressed indirectly, or through the titular invocation of ‘foolish things.’ As the song discloses, the 3 beloved in his entirety can only be loved (or properly remembered) via the route of the objet petit a; it is in this sense that the objet a is fantasy’s ‘foolish thing’ which is located at the centre of all remembrance - not as a fetish/partial object (although it may occasionally appear as such), but as the structuring semblance or “chimerical materialization of the curved structure of the space of desire” (Žižek 1992 65 n. 28) which allows us to create a total experience from a series of discontinuous fragments. The necessary impossibility of the objet a, of course, exists in the fact that this ‘total experience’ is both illusory and demarcates the moment of the subject’s “refusal of the offer” (because that’s not it) (Lacan 1975 126).